


The Kissing Olympics

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [243]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn and Ian are game to watch the Olympics, with their own special twist on the competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kissing Olympics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Helen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3   
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> Reference:  
> [Pablo Cruise - I Go To Rio (Extended Version) Lyrics](http://www.metrolyrics.com/i-go-to-rio-extended-version-lyrics-pablo-cruise.html)
> 
> Olympic Arcadias:  
> [Olympics at Alder Run](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4168902)  
> [Distracting Ian](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1252321)

"Phenomenal!" roared Tim Daggett.

Ian and Quinn grinned at each other and kissed, as they relaxed on their sofa recliner. They were watching the men's high-bar finals on August 16th, a steamy Tuesday evening in the pup days of summertime, and had already gotten more than a few kisses in, making their home steamier still.

Quinn rather thought their tally of kisses so far stood at seven, with Ian putting it at eight, although there was that one double-dip of Quinn's, which could account for the discrepancy. Kissing those luscious lips of Ian's just once was more of a challenge for his husband than eating only one of Violet's cookies, a feat he had never accomplished, especially since she'd gotten a new recipe for her chocolate chip macadamias.

The men had started to watch the Olympics after returning from the Alder Run Library, with their usual assortment of novels and histories. They'd run a bit later than planned, because they stopped to help a motorist with a flat tire. He was an elderly gentleman, who turned out to be Cal Saganne, a Professor Emeritus at Luke. He had taught for forty-five years in the Astronomy Department in Campbell Hall.

Since astronomy was a particular interest of theirs, Quinn and Ian chatted a bit with Professor Saganne, after they'd finished changing the tire. They had exchanged phone numbers and made a lunch date at the Faculty Club for Wednesday, September 1st, five days before the fall semester was set to begin.

Professor Saganne thanked them profusely, and they waved goodbye. Before starting his own car, Quinn waited to make sure that Saganne's Ford Galaxy was up and running. Then Quinn had driven Ian and himself home in the THX with the ragtop down, the better to enjoy the twilight breeze. He was soon glad that he hadn't flicked on his favorite alt-rock station that evening.

Inspired by the Summer Olympics they'd been watching all week long, Ian began to sing "I Go to Rio" in his beautiful tenor voice:

"When my baby,  
When my baby smiles at me,  
I go to Rio  
De Janeiro."

He looked like he was itching to do the samba as soon as they came home, which got Quinn itching to join him.

And, sure enough, Ian smiled up at him when they were stopped at the next traffic light, a couple of blocks from their house. Quinn smiled back at his lad, knowing that they would be off to Rio soon, at least vicariously. Rio beckoned them both, with its beauty and athletics on display for the whole world to see.

As soon as they opened the door, Artoo and Sandy trotted over to greet their dads. The pups did some high jumping of their own, excited as they were to have Quinn and Ian back home. The men had petted and pampered them, as well as refreshing their food and water, and the puppies were now curled up in their baskets in the kitchen, with neither one displaying any interest in the sports on TV, other than an occasional woof, no matter how loud the rooting got.

Meanwhile, their dads were curled up together on the couch, looking for all the galaxy as if they were ready to compete in a synchro event themselves. One day, synchronized cheering could possibly become as popular as sychronized diving, after all. Ian had opened the living-room windows, to let in the cool evening air, and the drapes were gently billowing in the breeze. The chirps of the crickets and the hoots of the snowy owls made pleasing natural replacements for the whir of the air conditioner.

"Ah, laddie. Feels like paradise," Quinn rumbled, happiness in every word.

Such a wonderful difference from the previous Olympics in Sochi.

They both remembered the sorrow they'd felt during those Winter Games, which had taken place in February 2014. They'd been unable to watch, since they were too upset to enjoy the events, the first time that had ever happened to them. Ian still thought that Russia, with its draconian anti-gay laws, should have been boycotted by the Western democracies.

Quinn had moved their little bit o' heaven and earth to cheer up his laddie, and fortunately he'd succeeded. They had played an impromptu game of Nerf paddleball, courtesy of the set they'd gotten for Lelia and Han, which had fired Ian up with competitive fervor, completely distracting him from the Sochi fiasco. Quinn had been soundly defeated, the only time he was glad about a drubbing. The final score: 25 - 10 | 25 - 4 | 25 - 12. Ian crowed about it for weeks afterwards.

Score another one for Quinn, the undisputed Master of mind games. If his Padawan ever found out about the benign Force manipulation, he did not say.

The Olympics in Rio had been much more pleasant than the Games preceding them. The Copacabana beach was just as gorgeous as the one at Magens Bay in Charlotte Amalie, their favorite beach on any of the cruises they'd taken. Gorgeous greens and blues saturated the screen from every venue, a vibrant oasis for their eyes. Another paradise, as Quinn put it, to go with their very own arcadia.

After all of their adventures that day, they had ended up sitting down to watch television only a few minutes before the program began at 8 pm. True to what they'd expected after being spoiled by the Trials -- which had given them two hours of wall-to-wall coverage of the diving preliminaries last month -- they had to sit through a ton of swimming before they got to the good stuff. While the two loved to swim themselves, particularly Ian, seeing it on TV just wasn't as exciting for them.

But as soon as the gymnastics events had started, both of them perked up immediately. Especially because of their private games. Here they were, only at the midpoint of the coverage that night, and they were averaging more kisses than usual this week. Their lips were looking lusher than guavas from the Amazon rain forest in Brazil and were much more tasty. Talk about being ripe for the kissing.

Ian jauntily turned to Quinn and said, "We're going for the gold tonight!"

Quinn chuckled and gave Ian a lopsided grin, captivated by his enthusiasm. "I always knew you had another medal in you, laddie." He swooped down to give his lad a bonus kiss in pure exhilaration.

"Extra points for artistic impression," Ian crowed. "A perfect ten!"

Quinn made a sound that Ian loved to hear -- a blend of laughter and groaning, all wrapped up in an irresistible Irish lilt. "You're the perfect ten, m'lad."

Ian's eyes were sparkling for the rest of the night.

When Ian had noticed that 'phenomenal' was one of Tim Daggett's favorite expressions, he had suggested a kissing game to Quinn: each time Tim used that word, they would go in for a kiss. Of course, his husband had eagerly agreed, with a glint in his eye which promised delicious times ahead.

Over the duration of the gymnastics competition, both women's and men's, they had kissed almost as much as they did on Valentine's Day this year. Sometimes, lost in the kiss, they'd even missed a couple of skills in a routine. But they always came up for air in time to cheer the team on. Yet another reason to root for Team USA.

Both of them agreed in their rough tally that the day of the women's team final was the highlight of their own kissing competition. They estimated that the total for the night was a staggering fourteen kisses by the time the coverage was over at midnight. 

Only their Jedi-like concentration kept them focused enough to actually return to watching the action after each kiss. Just like the Olympians, they knew how to overcome a distraction. Even when that distraction was 6'4" and could easily have been a high jumper. And even when he was 5'10" and almost had been a gymnast for Team USA at an earlier Games. 

'Phenomenal' was the perfect word to describe the Olympics for the U.S. gymnastics teams. The women had achieved gold in the team competition, with Simone Biles winning the individual all-around. Then, she had won two gold medals and one bronze in the event finals. Two-time Olympian Aly Raisman was right behind her, earning a silver medal in both the individual all-around and the floor exercises. Laurie Hernandez and Madison Kocian won silver on the balance beam and the uneven parallel bars, respectively. And Gabby Douglas, returning to the Games along with Aly, would have qualified for the all-around in bronze-medal position, if three women from one country were allowed. Outstanding!

The US men also put on a show for them. Alex Naddour had won a bronze medal after a wild ride on the pommel horse. Danell Leyva, originally an alternate, earned silver in parallel bars, and he was well on his way to earning one on high bar, as well, judging by his qualifying scores. Ian was cheering so hard for him that Quinn thought he might get laryngitis. When Quinn joined him, their cheers rang throughout the living room. 

High bar was Ian's favorite event, and he had an NCAA gold medal to prove it, so he was completely engrossed by Danell's routine. His Force-enhanced vision scrutinized each release move, somersault, handstand, and pirouette. From his coaching experience, Ian knew he would get a medal before Danell did himself. And another silver it was.

After the men finally stopped celebrating the U.S. victory, they sat back on the couch, with Ian feeling as if he had done the exercise himself. It didn't take long for them to ease into a favorite position of theirs.

So right now, Ian was in the ideal situation. His head was nestled on Quinn's shoulder; the sweet breeze washed over his face; his thigh was warmed by Quinn's own. He couldn't resist making it even better and threw his leg over Quinn's, shivering when he felt the hairs on their calves brush each other enticingly. Thank the Force, not to mention the warm weather, they were wearing shorts instead of sweatpants.

When NBC went to commercial, Ian said, "One of our Skyhawks almost made the U.S. team this year. So hard to do, what with only five athletes and three alternates." He kissed his herven's jaw to punctuate his comment. "He was in the final group of twelve."

Quinn whistled. "Quite a feat. Do I know him?"

"No, he's an incoming freshman, who's been practicing with the team this summer, before the Trials started. His name is Corin Lorn."

"Ah, I have heard of him. He's got the reputation for being a bit of a rogue."

"Well, let's just say that his practices have been... interesting. He flies by the seat of his pants when he's on high bar. It's a thrill to watch him, as you can imagine."

Quinn chuckled. "Sounds like someone else I know."

"Oh, Quinn. You think I'm better than Tim Daggett ever was." Ian beamed at his husband. "Talk about the eyes of love." 

"True enough, lad. In fact, I think you're *phenomenal*."

Wisely not mentioning that Quinn was starting to rival him with the quips, Ian settled for a groan. "And you're a Master of wordplay, ma herven."

"Too much jabbering, my own." Quinn was in a fine mood for teasing his fhear cheile (husband). "Hey, laddie, where's my kiss, now? I said 'phenomenal', after all," he said, with a thicker brogue than usual.

"I thought the rules of the game only applied if Tim said it," Ian teased back, then reached up to give Quinn a kiss anyway, rules be damned.

So the tally for the night in these Kissing Olympics was a very sweet sixteen, surpassing even their golden celebration for the women's team. After all, Quinn and Ian had been in training now for over thirteen years.

And they were pure gold.


End file.
